Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer read more

Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
'Now the king drinks to Hamlet.'

Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the read more

Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the blue ones!

But the standing toast that pleased me most
Was, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
read more

But the standing toast that pleased me most
Was, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss read more

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
read more

Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
And fill the tawny bowl.

A health to the nut-brown lass,
With the hazel eyes: let it pass.
. . . .
read more

A health to the nut-brown lass,
With the hazel eyes: let it pass.
. . . .
As much to the lively grey
'Tis as good i' th' night as day:
. . . .
She's a savour to the glass,
And excuse to make it pass.